Song: "You've Got A Friend" by James Taylor

* * * * *

The drive to my apartment was filled with an awkward reticence. Thankfully we didn't have to go very far. When Harry pulled up to the curb in front of my building, I turned and said to him, "I'm sorry. About your wife. I had no idea."

His eyes remained fixed on something directly in front of him. He just nodded and said, "Yeah."

"Thank you for the ride," I spoke slowly. "I'm thankful you were there. I mean, he was just a drunk guy and I guess I shouldn't have been so scared." 

He looked at me then and reached over to give my hand a little squeeze. "No, that would have been scary for anyone. Drunk people can be surprisingly strong sometimes."

"Yeah," I agreed. My throat was becoming dry and I was starting to get emotional. I had to get out of the car quickly before he saw me fall apart. "Thanks."

"Hey," he said, putting his hand on my arm. "You're still pretty upset, aren't you?" I nodded. "I understand if you're not okay with this, but would you like me to come up with you, just until you're calmed down a little more? You can trust me, I promise." 

Without hesitation, I answered, "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you."

I led him upstairs, pushing back the small warning bell that rang in my head that reminded me how very little I knew about him. Before I turned the key in the door, I said, "What if I told you I have a Rottweiler who is very protective over me?" 

"I would say that's very smart," he replied. "But you don't, do you? I'd think I would hear him scratching or whining at the door, waiting for Mummy to come home." I found his use of the word Mummy to be rather adorable.

"You're right, I don't. But I do have pepper spray in my purse, so just be forewarned."

"All right," he said with just the hint of a chuckle. I opened the door and he stepped inside. "Wow, this place is fantastic," he said.

"Thank you. I like it a lot," I said. "Come on in. You can put your coat there," I told him, pointing to a hook on the wall near the door. 

He stripped off his long coat and revealed not only his faded gray t-shirt but numerous tattoos covering his left arm. It was hard not to notice them, but I didn't say anything right away. I was curious, though, hoping I would get a chance to see them more closely. Tattoos fascinated me because people usually didn't just go and get a random tattoo; there was often a deeper meaning behind them, something important enough to want to have it permanently etched on their skin. 

When we moved further into the apartment, I just stopped and took a deep breath, still trying to shake off the panic from earlier. Although the situation had been resolved, my heart was still racing in fear.

"You okay?" Harry asked, touching my arm lightly. 

"Mmmhmm." And then, in spite of my best efforts, I started to cry. I didn't like crying in front of people, but it was too late now. He cautiously pulled me against himself, giving me the freedom to pull back if I wasn't okay with it. But I leaned into it and he tightened his hold while the tears came down. My face was pressed up against his shirt and I noticed that he smelled clean, very much unlike the first day I met him.

"You'd think I would be tougher, having lived downtown for four years," I finally said, sniffling. 

"You are tough," Harry insisted. "An attack like that would give anyone a fright."

"Thanks, I appreciate your help," I said, pulling back from his embrace. "Do you want anything? Tea or coffee?" 

"Tea would be nice," he smiled. 

While I put the tea kettle on, he checked out my place a little more, which easy since it was a very open space. The only separate room was the bathroom. My bedroom was in the corner, defined by one wall and a heavy purple curtain, similar to the $10,000 ones you see in old theaters, but mine was a reasonably priced find from an outlet store online.

Harry took a seat on the sofa just as I brought the tea out. "Thank you," he said, smiling again when I handed him the cup and saucer. He took a sip and hummed in appreciation. 

After another sip, he set the cup down and said, "I'm sorry I was so blunt about my wife earlier. I still have a hard time saying it."

"How long has it been?" 

"It was a year ago on Labor Day weekend. I'm still adjusting, I guess."

"Of course," I said emphatically. "I can't imagine how hard that would be."

"Yeah, thanks," he whispered and then gave me a closed-mouth smile. 

We sat silently and sipped tea for a while.

"Can I ask you something?" I finally said.

"Of course," he answered.

"Do you have a place to live?" I was pretty sure I couldn't be more of a dork than I was in that moment. 

"Yes." He gave me the answer with a sideways kind of smirk and I couldn't tell if it meant he was teasing me or just being sweet.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking off my embarrassment. "It's just that you've been at the library so often, usually for the whole day, so I wondered if you didn't have any other place to go."

A wispy laugh escaped through his nose and he looked down at the tattoos on his left hand. "I can completely understand that. But no, I have a house and it's more than adequate. But sometimes I just need to get away, you know? More often lately, I suppose." 

"Of course," I answered, happy to finally have an answer to that question. 

"That's why you've been taking care of me," he observed in a rather unemotional voice.

"Yes," I admitted and shrugged my shoulders. 

He sat forward and caught my eyes with his intense green gaze. "You are a very kind person, Regan. Thank you." 

"You're welcome," I answered. "I feel kind of silly now, though."

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't really need the food or money, for that matter. But I needed to know that someone cared."

"Well then I'm glad," I told him. I stood up and gathered the tea cups. Without even thinking, I turned back and asked him, "Would you want to spend the night?" The question caught him off guard as much as it did me. "No, no, I don't mean anything like that!" I quickly clarified, in case he thought I meant something much different than what I was proposing. "I just thought, it's late and my couch is pretty comfy and I'm still...I'd rather not be alone."

He stood up and walked over to me. "I would be happy to stay if it's what you want. But really, only if you're absolutely comfortable with it."

"Yeah, of course I am or I wouldn't have asked you. I haven't known you very long but I feel like I can trust you." I locked my eyes onto his to study his reaction. He didn't give any pause, and I knew I was right. "All the same, I'll still sleep with the pepper spray nearby."

"That sounds like a wise thing to do," he agreed. "Doesn't hurt my feelings at all." 

I brought a sheet and some blankets to the living area so he could make a bed. "This couch is pretty comfortable," I told him. "It gets a little cool at night, though, so one of these blankets is wool."

"Thank you."

"Please feel free to grab something to eat," I said. "Make yourself at home. The bathroom is over there." I pointed to the door. 

"Thank you," he said again.

"Good night, Harry," I finally said as I went to ready myself for bed.

"Good night, Regan," he said softly. "Sleep well." 

I disappeared behind the heavy curtain of my room and made sure it was pulled all the way across the opening. I gathered my pajamas and locked myself into the bathroom to change. I silently prayed that I wasn't being stupid, but I just felt in my gut that I could trust Harry.

I called Gabby and told her what happened. She expressed her concern for my safety, which was nice, and then she told me to take the next day off, which I gladly accepted. I could use a long weekend before going back. I also told her about the police report and gave her the names of the officers who responded.

With that, I climbed into my cushy bed and pulled the covers tight around me. I had no worries about the stranger-turned-friend in my living room as I fell into a contented sleep.

I was awakened in the morning by the clatter of pots and pans. I threw on a robe and went to find out what Harry was doing.

"Good morning," I said.

He turned around quickly, looking a little bit startled. "I hope I didn't wake you. I just thought I'd make some breakfast. Pancakes, maybe? What time do you have to be to work?"

I yawned as I shook my head. "I don't. I called my boss last night and told her what happened. She told me to take the day off." 

"She's good to you," Harry observed.

I shrugged. "Yeah, for the most part. She's a little prickly, but we usually get along." 

"Prickly?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's just not the warm and friendly type. She's pretty decent, though," I explained. 

"You don't mind that I went ahead and started breakfast, do you?" He asked as he opened the fridge and took out the milk and eggs. "I haven't cooked in a long time. This morning, it seemed like just the thing I needed." He threw a casual smile in my direction.

"I don't mind at all. That's what I meant when I said to make yourself at home," I told him. I sat on a bar stool and watched him move around my small kitchen. His hair was still pulled back in a ponytail, but it was mussed up from sleeping. Whiskers sprinkled his jawline, making him look more like the man I'd first seen at the library, but I had a much better view of his entire face now. He was remarkably good-looking.

I hadn't really noticed in the commotion the night before, but for once, he wasn't wearing dirty sweatpants or wrinkly khakis. He was wearing black skinny jeans, and although they hugged his rear end nicely, they still looked loose on him everywhere else. His hips looked bony; I saw them poking through his thin t-shirt when he moved in certain ways. 

"Do you have coffee?" He asked. "That's the one thing I couldn't find. Looks like it's going to be a stormy day," he said, nodding towards the window. "Coffee seems just the thing." I got up to get my stash of coffee out of the freezer. "Ahhh, no wonder I couldn't find it," he said with a little sideways smirk. 

I took care of the coffee while Harry made pancakes and soon we were sitting down eating breakfast together. "Breakfast and coffee seem to be our thing," I observed as I cut down the stack of pancakes and welcomed a forkful into my mouth. "Oh my, these are good."

"Thanks," he said, regarding my mouthful. "We do seem to stick to breakfast, don't we?"

While we ate, the sky became darker. Long, low rumbles of thunder rolled in the distance and rain fell in curtains from the turbulent sky. Suddenly I didn't want Harry to leave, which I assumed he planned to do some time after breakfast. "Would you want to hang out here today? I have nothing planned since I was supposed to be working. Unless you have something to do."

Unexpected laughter spilled from his mouth at my words. "I don't really have anything to do. I thought that might be obvious to you since I've been at the library pretty much nonstop over the past weeks."

"I suppose that's true," I admitted. "So, you don't have a job?" 

He shook his head. "It's complicated," was all he said. I didn't push him for more information, but I wished he would tell me more. "So what do you want to do today?" He asked. I guess that meant he wanted to stay.

* * * * *

The song I chose for this chapter is "You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor. I chose this live version in particular because you can hear some of his phenomenal guitar skills. He also does some improv with the lyrics, but the song is still the same.

I'm going to use pictures and collages less often because I become obsessed with finding just the right picture or just the right look, and I spend far too much time trying to get a moment across with a picture. I realized that to become a better writer (and not to waste so much time), I want to work on creating a picture with my words rather than just showing you. 

I want to mention one more thing. I assume that some of you will think she's foolish for letting him take her home and inviting him, not only to come in but to stay overnight. She's spoken to him enough to know that he's not deranged or insane, just kind of private. Still, she's taking a chance because she doesn't know him that well. But it occurred to me that, both in real life and in fiction, there are a lot of one-night stands where people go out to bars, get drunk and go home with someone, anyone. To me, that seems a lot more dangerous, to be honest. Just a thought.

Hope you're enjoying the story! <3